Waiting for Harry
by yourmirroroferised
Summary: We know that Dumbledore was there when Harry discovered the Mirror of Erised, and when he returned to it twice. The question is, what was Dumbledore doing in the room?
1. Chapter 1

Waiting for Harry

Disclaimer: Ahh, how sad it is that my intials are not JKR

Author's Note: This story came to me while watching PS on Christmas Eve Day. It is set during PS, just before Harry comes to the Mirror of Erised for the third time. From Dumbledore's POV.

He couldn't stand to look.

At first he had been curious, having been away from the mirror for some time, he wondered if the deepest desire of his heart had changed since he had last looked into it as a headstrong young wizard over a hundred years ago. Back then it had shown him, Albus Dumbledore, achieving peace once and for all, and celebrating by relaxing in his favorite overstuffed armchair, eating sherbert lemons.

But that was not what it showed now.

In a way, it saddened Albus to know that he had lost some of his youthful idealism, his dreams of achieving peace for the wizarding world. But with age comes inevitable disillusionment, even for a man as immersed in childhood as the Headmaster of a young wizard's school. He had finally realized that there would always be an evil witch or wizard ready to rise up and destroy the fragile calm of prosperity.

But no amount of youthful idealism could have prepared him for what the mirror revealed.

So now, he stood in a far corner of the abandoned classroom, working to keep his eyes averted from the mirror. Anything to avoid seeing that.

He realized his feelings for her had changed from the moment she walked into the school as the new Transfigurations Professor, Deputy Headmistress, and Head of Gryfindor, all in her first year as a teacher. She had proved her self a skillful, adept, and cool-headed associate. And over the years, they had developed a strong friendship that ran deeper than most people suspected.

But Albus loved her. Not as a mere friend. No, he loved Minerva McGonagall more than life itself. The frequent times when he had been forced to leave the school in her capable hands to travel, either to a Ministry Meeting or on some crucial errand, had worn him to a frazzle at being separated from her.

At least he had been able to look into the mirror when no one else was around. It would have to been hard to explain why he just stood there staring into the mirror for four hours straight, his soul tied to the scene like his hand was attached to his arm.

He had looked into the mirror to see himself sitting next to _her_. They were sitting on the comfy red couch in his living room. Curled next to each other, with the light of a romantic fire reflecting in their eyes. The Dumbledore in the mirror had his arms around Minerva, and Albus felt himself growing sick with jealousy. But then his attention focused on the objects occupying the end table next the couch. There were dozens of photos of happy young people, smiling and waving back him, all of them with features that were characteristic of the two people on the couch. Albus had a suspicion of who these handsome young people might be, a suspicion that was confirmed by a picture of a Minerva and Albus of thirty years ago cradling a black haired, blue eyed bundle in a purple baby blanket. These were their children. The family he had longed for, but cruel fate, and the constant threat of kidnapping had kept him from achieving.

Suddenly, a flash of light from the happy couple on the couch brought his focus back to them. Minerva was stroking Albus's face, and her wedding band had reflected the fire light. Hypnotized, Albus had begrudgingly peeled himself from the mirror four hours later.

That was why he so carefully avoided the mirror now.

_Ah, here comes Harry…_ He thought as the door swung mysteriously open, seemingly of its own free will.


	2. Two People, Same Reflection

A/N this came to me really quickly, so here's the second chapter. Harry has just asked Dumbledore what he sees, and Dumbledore replied with the classic sock story.

As Harry left, Dumbledore was slightly abashed by his own falsehood. He most certainly had not seen himself receiving a pair of wool socks. But it would not do to tell anyone, least of all a student, of his real dreams.

He peered into the mirror, once again driven by the urge to see his "family", knowing that he had missed the opportunity for winning Minerva's hand long ago. Little did he know, the door to the classroom was once again creeping open, only this time, the person on the other side was quite plainly visible in her tartan dressing gown, her hair forsaking the captivity of its customary bun or hairnet.

"Albus?" Minerva whispered.

Albus jumped around to face her, instantly flushing as his mind connected the goddess before him with his vision in the mirror.

"Is this the Mirror?" Minerva softly queried as she crept, cat-like, over to the glass.

"Yes," Albus reluctantly ripped his feet from the place in front of the mirror. Minerva stepped in front of it, only to have the breath stolen from her lungs as the image became clear. Blushing furiously, she stepped away hastily. Albus turned toward her, his look one of concern and question.

Minerva ignored him, backing away from the mirror, yet refusing to look away from it, she demanded, "And what did you see in this mirror, Albus? You certainly looked preoccupied when I stepped in."

Sighing, Albus turned away from her, "Something that can never be, I'm afraid. May I walk you to your rooms, Minerva?"

Although puzzled by his hesistance to reveal what he saw, for they always shared everything with each other, but not wanting to press the matter further, lest he ask what she had seen, Minerva smiled and accepted his proffered arm, and together, they strolled away from the mirror that had given only two different reflections that night, one to the boy who lived, and the other to the Headmaster and his Deputy.

That's all for now. I could continue if you simply can't live with this ending.

Review, and let me know what you want me to do with it.


	3. The End of Waiting

A/N: So Sorry to keep you waiting, my computer refused to connect to the internet for four whole days (I know, the horror!). But here is the final chapter, if you wanted this to be an angst fic, read no more. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alas, my initials, are not JKR, therefore, I own nothing from HP.

_I won't stand for it anymore!_ Minerva fumed, as she changed direction for the fourth time, turning back toward the Headmaster's office, _it's been three days since we walked away from that mirror, yet he still looks as if something is bothering him. What could it be? He always talks to me about everything! Now, every time he sees me, he finds some petty reason to head in the opposite direction. Well, I'm sick of it! _And whether Minerva McGonagall would admit it, she missed Albus. She missed having absurd conversations about how sock colors match people's moods, or being asked her opinion of this composer's string quartet. She just missed Albus Dumbledore.

Which was why she found herself marching up the stairs to the headmaster's office. Barely pausing to knock, she flung the door open to Albus's absent minded "come in" and swished over to his desk before erupting.

"Albus Dumbledore, I have had enough! I refuse to let something you saw in some dusty old mirror ruin our relationship. Something's bothering you, and I refuse to leave until you ease my mind!" With that, she snapped onto the edge of one of Albus's overstuffed chairs.

The look on Albus's face was inscrutable. _Well, almost inscrutable,_ Minerva thought, _After all, you don't spend the better part of forty years working with a man, and still be unable to read his expressions. _There was a stab of apprehension (he would be a fool, if he wasn't little scared of Minerva McGonagall's temper), a blush of realization at discovering he had been so obvious, a sigh a resignation, and still something a bit like, regret? Could Albus Dumbledore be feeling guilty? Minerva strained closer to the desk, as if listening for an answer from the papers towering there.

"Ah, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, "I should have known better than to hide this from you." Minerva's almost-smug _I know you too well_ smile was greeted by a resigned grin as he continued, "Unfortunately, as this is a matter of the heart, words will prove inadequate. Therefore, I believe, a trip into the pensive will serve to better demonstrate my predicament."

"A memory, Ablus?" Minerva's eyebrows rose, "But which…"

"Everything will be explained," Dumbledore replied as he pulled her over to the shimmering bowl, "After you, my dear."

Minerva found herself standing in the abandoned class room that, until recently, had housed the mirror of Erised. In the memory, Dumbledore was standing in front of the mirror, totally entranced by whatever its tain revealed. Albus appeared next to her.

"This is the night Harry visited the mirror for the last time." Albus answered her questioning glance.

"But surely, since I was there, there is nothing for me to see…" Minerva protested.

"The Mirror is a curious thing, Minerva," Albus breathed, "A man can only see his own heart's desire, never that of anyone else. But you will find, that when reliving a memory, since you are looking from the perspective of someone else, you may see what they say in the mirror."

Minerva was silenced by this until Albus added, "Go, look in the mirror, all your questions will be answered."

Minerva crept behind the pensive-Dumbledore and peered into the mirror, only to be jolted with disappointment. Albus was wrong. The mirror did not reveal the answer to her questions, she saw only the same reflection as the night before.

"Albus, you're wrong, I see nothing different." Minerva cried whirling to face the weary looking wizard behind her.

"Y-you don't see anything…" but here his voice trailed off, and something ignited in the corner of his eye, whether it was a tear, or his customary gleam, she could never recall, because at that moment, she was swept off her feet, and out of the memory.

"Albus! Put me down!" She shrieked, for the first time in her life, truly afraid he was raving mad. "I told you I saw nothing diff…" Then, catching sight of the gargantuan grin that threatened to engulf Albus's face, realization crept into her methodically stern features. "You mean… you were right then… you just… I saw…Albus?" She said uncertainly, feeling her knees begin to buckle.

"My dear Minerva!" Dumbledore shouted, grabbing her up again and cutting a loony jig round the delicate silver instruments, "It means that, not only am I madly in love with you, but you feel the same way about me!"

"I am? I mean, you do?" Minerva's face was slipping away from confusion into a state of genuine bliss, "Well? What are you going to do about it, Albus Dumbledore?" She playfully demanded, pulling away from the prancing headmaster, and facing him squarely.

"This!" And he grabbed her round the waist and pulled her in for a long over-due, but well timed, snogging.

They were married, in secret, on New Years Day. Albus insisted on secrecy to protect Minerva. But the staff witnessed one of the most joyous unions in the history of the school. And the students, who were at first baffled by her inane cheerfulness at the start of term, decided that she must have planned the wicked finals in the history of Hogwarts, and proceeded to study harder then ever. Surprisingly, (and whether it was due to the students applying themselves, or from Albus's influence on her temperament, Minerva would never say) the class average for that year was higher than any of Professor McGonagall's previous years teaching.

There you go, sorry angst lovers, but at this festive time of the year, it would be unthinkable for me to leave a story without a happy ending.


End file.
